


a montage, to show that time has passed

by ang3lba3, Mellomailbox



Series: Real Housewives of Republic City [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:21:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26041840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mellomailbox/pseuds/Mellomailbox
Summary: Short scenes set after Zuko and Sokka get together, but before the next plotted fic.The course of true love runs smooth.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Real Housewives of Republic City [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1811134
Comments: 13
Kudos: 139





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sup, this doesn't have a set amount of chapters cuz it's just a bunch of ficlets & scenes. this chapter was co-written with Mello.

“No, no, it’s,” Zuko says, and his face freezes comically under the weight of trying to think of a lie when he’s this incredibly high. 

“Delicious?” Sokka asks hopefully, tearing a part of the bread bowl off with his fingers. Zuko’s still holding the spoon in loose fingers, and some of the sauce is dripping onto the table. 

“It’s deciduous!” Zuko agrees, and shovels another bite into his mouth. He smiles with closed lips, nodding and giving a thumbs up with both hands. The spoon splatters his face a little. He doesn’t react. “MMMMMM.”

Sokka scowls, and takes a bite of the sauce-soaked bread. It _is_ delicious. It’s also incredibly spicy, and Sokka’s eyes immediately begin to water. He swallows, because he’s cultured and doesn’t waste good food, but immediately downs his water. 

“Not water!” Zuko says, setting his spoon down, too late to stop him. 

Sokka, panicking, spits it out onto Zuko’s shirt. “WHY NOT WATER? What’s going to happen, do the fire-flakes EXPLODE?” His tongue is so hot that he starts panting lighting, mouth open. 

Zuko wipes his face off with a dry part of his hair. “It helps it linger longer? It spreads the heat around.”

“Wha?” Sokka asks, mouth still hanging open. 

“Because this is _super_ spicy food,” Zuko says, nodding. He goes to take a drink of his water, seems to remember that it’s supposed to be too spicy for that, and instead tips it over his shoulder. Water hits the ground with a slap, and Sokka blinks slowly at him. “Um. Avoiding temptation?”

“You don wike it,” Sokka says, tongue numb and swelling. He’s man enough not to wipe away his tears, and they course down his cheeks and collect in his beard. 

“I _love_ it,” Zuko says. The worst part is how sincere he is, as he leans over the table to cup Sokka’s face. “Sokka. I love it. Thank you.”

“Ugh,” Sokka says. At least his face is red from the sweating and Zuko can’t tell that he’s drawn out a blush. Stupid sincere idiot. “Kith my mouf better.” 

“That would very much not help you,” Zuko says, gesturing to the slightly orange stain around his own lips. 

“Utheleth,” Sokka lisps, and glowers at him happily. Zuko flinches, but it’s gone so quickly Sokka could think he’d imagined it. Sokka lays his hands over the back of Zuko’s where they’re cupping his face. 

Zuko pulls one hand away from Sokka’s face, pressing his fingers together and then the tips of them to Sokka’s lips.

“Mwah,” Zuko says, and flutters his fingers outwards as he draws them away.

“Thank you,” Sokka says, grinning, and reaches for the food again. 

“Sokka, _no,”_ Zuko says, slapping at his hand.

“It’s good food!” Sokka argues, tongue still too fat in his mouth. It _is._ Sokka’s _good at this._

“You spat on it!” Zuko argues, louder. 

“What, it’s my spit! It’s always in my mouth anyways, and you’ve had plenty of it in yours!”

“Don’t fucking eat—” Zuko says, grabbing the bread bowl and jumping to his feet. It sloshes slightly, getting all over his nice shirt.

“FOOD NO,” Sokka shouts, chair crashing behind him as he vaults towards Zuko and the stolen bread bowl. 

“AH!” Zuko yelps, stumbling backwards and directly into the pool of water he’d thrown behind him earlier. He slips, and the bowl flies up.

It lands with a sickening _schlorp_. Orange sauce, rice and peppers arc across the floor, splattering the front of the counter and the side of the grill in a gruesome scene of lost potential. 

“This no longer falls under ‘you cook, I clean’ rules,” Zuko says, flatly. He stares at the ceiling grimly, a broken man. 

Sokka kneels down next to him, better to scowl where Zuko can see it. He pokes Zuko’s cheek. “I can’t believe you hated my cooking so much that you literally threw it away,” Sokka complains. There’s a warmth in his chest, a giddiness that wants to bubble up and out. 

He’s too busy harassing Zuko, and he shoves the giggles away. 

“Hated?” Zuko says, and he begins to smile. He reaches a hand up, caresses the back of Sokka’s neck. “No. I really did love it. Let me _thank you.”_

His hand tightens, viper quick, dragging Sokka down into him even as he shoots upright.

“OUT PLAYED,” Sokka howls, covered in nasty spices and oil. “HOW COULD YOU.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Zuko asks, laughing. He licks a line up Sokka’s neck, removing some sauce. “Mmm. _Deciduous.”_

The bell above the door dings, signalling a new customer. She opens the door, see’s the mess, and stills. 

“He’s being murdered, go away,” Zuko says.

She turns, but just before she leaves a hand darts out, flipping the _open_ sign to _closed._

“FREE LUNCH ON THE HOUSE TOMORROW,” Sokka yells happily. Then he gets his hands nice and gross before shoving them up the back of Zuko’s shirt. 

***

The thing about Sokka, is that it’s easy to forget how smart he is. Between his terrible sense of humor, his dedication to slapstick, and his general disdain for academia, he’s pretty easily underestimated. 

“It’s a simple question, Zuko, yes or no?” Sokka asks, obstinately. His arms are crossed, and he’s pouting.

“I— it is _not_ a simple question, and I’m not qualified to answer it,” Zuko says. “And this isn’t the place for this.”

They’re in public. Somehow, through sheer cleverness, Sokka’s managed to engage Zuko in another outrageous argument where _people can hear it._

“Sounds like someone’s not as good a bender as he says he is,” Sokka sighs, slouching in apparent defeat.

It’s not even a particularly clever manipulation on Sokka’s part, is the thing. Sokka’s smart enough to play him better, to be more subtle. But he doesn’t _need_ to be, because he plays Zuko like a harp. 

“NO!” Zuko snaps. “No, okay?!” The entire shop twists to look at him, but it’s just for a moment. They’re used to him.

He lowers his voice anyways, leaning forward to hiss at Sokka. “No, I don’t think there are _cumbenders._ The fifth element, if it exists, would be— spirit, or life. Not _semen._ ”

Sokka’s eyes glint in victory, and he matches Zuko’s pose, leaning his elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm thoughtfully. “I never said a thing about any fifth element. Jizz is made of liquid, right?” 

“Why—” Zuko asks, desperately. He was going to ask why Sokka hasn’t asked a waterbender about this, but then he realized he didn’t want to hear about it if he _had._ “I’m a firebender. That doesn’t mean I can bend— hot air. Mercury is a liquid, but it’s not _water._ ”

“Hm,” Sokka says, eyebrow arching. “But-- you can bend heat. You do it all the time, when you make your hands cold and put them down my--” 

_“My_ heat,” Zuko emphasizes, and then puts his face in his hands. “Shut up. Shut up. Don’t fucking say it.”

Sokka doesn’t need to, grinning huge as Jin strolls over with a wooden tray in her hands. 

“Hey guys!” Jin says, cheerfully. “Whatchya talking about?”

“Zuko just raised a very interesting point about how waterbenders can bend their own cum,” Sokka answers cheerfully. 

Jin, bless her and damn her both, is completely unfazed. “Wouldn’t they be able to bend all cum?” she asks, leaning the tray at an angle against her hip. “I mean, it’s liquid, right?”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Sokka says, snapping his fingers decisively. 

“This is a nightmare,” Zuko mutters. “I’m going to wake up.”

“Aww, you dream about me?” Jin asks, twirling her hair on her finger. 

Sokka opens his mouth and Zuko knows, he _knows_ that he’s about to say something humiliating. So he jumps to his feet and shouts, eyes drawn to him again, “I WOULD LOVE TO TRY YOUR NEW DRINK PLEASE.” 

“There’s a new drink?” Jin asks Sokka, intrigued. Sokka mouths _special sauce_ at her. She mouths nonsense back, to indicate she hadn’t caught it.

“How perceptive,” Uncle says from the drape that hangs over the door to the kitchens. “I wasn’t sure if I would try it. Here, we can try it together.” 

“I will _get you_ for this,” Zuko tells Sokka in an undertone, finger jabbing at him furiously. Then he turns to his Uncle, grimace fixed firmly on his face. “Sounds great.”

“Uncle!” Sokka says happily, eyes on Zuko’s. “We’re having a debate. What have you got for us?” He pulls out a seat for Uncle, taking the tray from his hands and setting it on the table in front of them. 

The tea set is a deep brown, the cups larger but more shallow than the ones he typically uses in the teashop. There’s a strange, indecipherable scent trailing from the spout of the teapot in a misty swirl. 

“Hmm,” Uncle says, settling in with a huff. Zuko, resigned, sits down. The shop returns to their own, probably blissfully cum free, conversations. “I would be willing to trade one honest opinion for another. What is the topic?”

“Wheth--”

“Whether or not benders can bend things outside of their elements,” Zuko interrupts, stomping on Sokka’s foot. 

“It’s not outside of their element, it’s a _liquid,_ ” Jin insists. 

“Don’t you have customers?” Zuko asks meanly. 

“I don’t work here,” Jin says dismissively. 

“What?” 

“It’s true, she doesn’t,” Uncle says casually, patting the chair next to him. Jin sits down, settling her serving tray on her lap. She’s wearing one of the Jasmine Dragon’s aprons, identical to the one that Uncle has on. 

“Well, if you want the good coupons, raw sexual appeal will only get you so far,” Jin says, reasonably. 

“So if I were to sneeze,” Sokka says, and Uncle scowls at him and puts a protective arm over the tea-set. “Hypothetically! Hypothetically sneeze, would a waterbender be able to--” 

“I don’t think that’s better,” Zuko moans, making a face. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” 

“Ah,” Uncle says, wisely. “Piss. Yes, they can.”

Zuko grabs the pot of tea, and pours it directly into his mouth, managing to mostly empty it. It’s disgusting, bitter and burnt.

“Alright, there’s Uncle’s opinion,” Zuko says. “Uncle, my honest opinion is this tastes horrible.”

“Yes, I thought that might be the case. Some enterprising individuals assure me that this drink is gaining popularity in Ba Sing Se, specifically for its medicinal purposes. Alas, ground beans did sound too good to be true.” Uncle sighs, stroking his beard. 

“It’s not even _leaf water?_ ” Zuko asks. His skin is starting to feel strange, buzzing slightly. His face flushes. 

Sokka and Jin are staring at him. They stare at him a lot, but this is different, like they’re judging him. He scowls, and blushes more, and crosses his arms. 

“WHAT,” he asks, too loud. He twitches. His fire feels— odd. It’s sliding through his veins so _easily._ “What. Medicinal properties?”

Uncle is also staring at him now. So is everyone else in the shop, and Zuko’s heart pounds in his chest as he slides further down the seat and pulls the collar of his robe up and over his mouth. 

He can feel _every hair on his head._ He thinks he can feel hairs he hasn’t grown yet. 

“Hm. Perhaps I should have investigated that aspect more thoroughly,” Uncle says. Sokka’s expression has gone from gleeful to worried, and he leans forward, reaching for Zuko. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko says, high pitched. He moves to his feet, dodging Sokka’s hands. “Stop— don’t look at me. Stop looking at me. Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here, isn’t it.”

He bounces on the balls of his feet, flapping his hands at his face to try and get some circulation.

Sokka frowns and looks to the other cups of brown, stinking liquid. Then, in slow motion, horror dragging through Zuko’s veins, he shrugs. And. Downs one. 

“BLECH,” Sokka says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Why is it _so thick?_ ” 

“Bottoms up!” Jin says, holding her nose as she gulps hers. She gags a little, but pushes through it like a real champ.

The bean-tea in the pot had been less thick. Probably. Zuko rolls his tongue over his teeth, briefly absorbed by the sensation. 

“Gritty,” he says.

“Sandy,” Sokka agrees. 

“That would be the _ground_ beans,” Uncle says. “Hm. Do you think that earthbenders can bend ground items?”

“There would have to be earth in them,” Sokka says, blinking rapidly. Jin is sitting completely still for the first time Zuko’s ever seen. 

Zuko forces himself to sit back down. 

“Beans come from the earth,” he says. 

“And cum comes from the soul,” Sokka says sagely. “So, the Avatar--” 

Uncle stands abruptly, takes the tray, and heads back to the kitchens while Zuko’s still trying to process the words _cum_ and _Sokka’s mouth_ and _Uncle, sitting right there._

“Hey!” Jin says, and follows him. “Wait, I think whatever it does is working on me!”

(Safely ensconced in the kitchen, with only Jin to see, Iroh lets himself break into giggles. Zuko’s _face._ )

“Wow,” Zuko says, wonderingly. “I guess I’m going to kill you and then myself.” 

“Aww,” Sokka says, and puts a hand over Zuko’s. Zuko’s fingers twitch feebly. Murderously. “You’re a real romantic, Zuko. Did you know that? Have I told you that today?”

“I believe all cumbending should be saved for committed relationships,” Zuko says, trying to convince himself not to dig his nails into Sokka’s hand. He digs them into the table instead.

“I kinda wanna cumbend right now,” Sokka grins. His legs are shaking under the table. Zuko knows, because it’s shaking the table, their actual leaf-water teacups tinkling as they shudder against the little clay plates. 

“I’m gonna cumbend you into a _dumpster,_ ” Zuko says, and threads their fingers together. He stands, because he can’t stand to sit any longer. “My room’s an acceptable substitute. Unfortunately.”

“Your room is a dumpster,” Sokka agrees, skip-hopping over to the stairs, dragging Zuko along behind him. “This stuff was gross. We should let Katara look at it. Does your Uncle have more? See if your Uncle has more, I want some for myself. I bet I could make it taste good.” 

“Uh huh. Keep talking. See if I bend anything for you,” Zuko says, unlocking the apartment. “I need to move out. I can’t ever speak to him again.”

“I know I say that I can make anything taste good, but I truly mean it. This won't be like that spicy bread bowl thing, I’m pretty sure that if I add--”

“Sokka,” Zuko sighs, opening the door. “Stop calling it spicy.”

“Do you think that you can bend my cum if it’s spicy?” Sokka asks, and Zuko gives into the temptation and shoves him back against the couch. 

“You’re pretty hot,” he says, toppling him. “Why don’t I just bend _you?”_

Sokka doesn’t answer. Instead he just-- giggles. A lot. 

It’s _adorable._

“I thought you’d never ask,” he finally says, and Zuko realizes-- he’s been played. Spirits, but it’s easy to forget how smart Sokka is, sometimes. 

“That is _not_ acceptable foreplay,” he says, climbing on top of him. It’s a ‘do what I say, not what I do’ kind of situation. He rests his ass on Sokka’s stomach, so that if he wants any kind of friction he’ll have to grab his hips, move him. He points threateningly down into Sokka’s face. “This isn’t going to work again.”

“I’m thinking, more water, less heat,” Sokka says conversationally. His hands settle on Zuko’s hips, fingers twitching, tapping an erratic pattern against his skin. “Maybe something sweet? Or, something creamy? Lots of people don’t like sealcow milk, I wonder--” 

“Shut _up,”_ Zuko groans. He kisses him, entirely out of self defense. Not because this is working on him.

“Mff, Zuko, I think I’m onto something,” Sokka says against his mouth. He’s laughing, though, and his hands clutch more forcefully at Zuko’s hips, obviously having him on. 

“No, _I’m_ on some _thing,_ ” Zuko says, twitching his hips teasingly, bumping at the head of Sokka’s erection.

Sokka’s eyes shine, all squinty and cute with the force of his amusement. “Not yet you’re not, if you don’t stop wasting time _talking_.” 

Zuko slides further up Sokka’s stomach. “Actually, no, why don’t you tell me about how you’re going to fix the horrible bean juice? I don’t know what I was saying earlier, it’s a real _stimulating_ top—”

“I’m a stimulating top,” Sokka says, and there’s a gasp and a giggle and lots of movement and then, not very much talking at all. 

At one point, lost in ecstasy, Zuko thinks he hears Sokka murmur, “cumbending, _go._ ” 

He pretends he doesn’t. 

That’s what love is, sometimes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt filled on ang3lba3's sideblog, autisticzukka. can be reblogged [here](https://autisticzukka.tumblr.com/post/627127911225458688/could-you-write-about-zukka-and-them-cooking). by ang3lba3 :)

“No,” Sokka says.

“Yes,” Zuko says.

“Zuko. No.”

“Zuko _yes.”_ Zuko grabs the bread out of Sokka’s hands.

Sokka’s apartment mostly has west facing windows, and the early morning light that filters into the kitchen is watery and dim. Zuko likes it like this, likes the quiet, the dull blue of the tiles and countertop. He likes waking up here, in a nest of pillows and blankets and Sokka. He likes _them._

“Please don’t ruin my bread,” Sokka groans, but gives up, leaning against the counter. His grey sleep pants slip a little further down his hips, the drawstring coming loose again. He grabs at it, retying it.

“You should just knot it twice,” Zuko says. He positions the bread so that his palms and fingers cover nearly every bit of it.

"These are sleep pants,” Sokka grumbles. “Ease of access is a feature, not a flaw.”

Zuko rolls his eyes, but has to fall silent to focus on what he’s doing. He lets the heat gather in his hands, hotter, hotter, _hotter_. He doesn’t let the spark out, even though the fire fights him, begs to be brought out. Instead he just holds it there, as the bread begins to toast.

“Say when,” he says.

“Holy shit, it’s actually working,” Sokka says. “You’re a human toaster.”

The bread is passing into well done. “Say _when,”_ Zuko says, stressing the urgency.

“We could market this. I don’t know how, but we could. Does Toph know you can do this? How could Toph not tell me you can do this?!”

Zuko puts the bread down before it chars. It’s extremely well done.

“Hm. Little well done,” Sokka says, judgingly. Zuko vents the heat from his palms into the air in one quick burst, and then shoves them into Sokka’s armpits. “AHH! HELP!”

Sokka tries to wiggle away, but the kitchen isn’t very large, and soon he’s trapped in a corner between a counter and the window sill, laughing helplessly. Zuko leeches a little more heat from his hands, as punishment for resisting.

“HORRIBLE!” Sokka yells, and in a bold maneuver, reaches upwards to grab Zuko’s messy ponytail, exposing his entire armpit. Zuko freezes, fingers centimeters from the ticklish expanse. Sokka tightens his grip, a warning.

“Morning,” Zuko says, and smiles widely, harmlessly. He politely slides his hands down Sokka’s sides, and onto his butt.

Sokka snorts. “Morning to you too,” he says, and tugs Zuko down into a kiss.

Zuko likes mornings here. He likes _them._


End file.
